


Crossroads

by Irrisia



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: 1602 AU, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Multi, based on Tam Lin, it's only really a three way relationship if you squint, mentions of period-typical violence and homophobia, this is all very ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:56:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrisia/pseuds/Irrisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier in stories, Billy thinks. In stories, everyone knows what they have to do. There's always someone to help. Not just Billy Kaplan, alone and waiting, in the probably vain hope of saving his boyfriend from something bigger and nastier than him.</p><p>But he'll wait for Teddy, because he has to, and maybe earn his happy ending. He hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

He hadn't thought much of it, at first, when Teddy started being a little dazed. Teddy worked hard, unlike Billy, so it was easy to just blame tiredness even if Teddy had never been tired before. He should have been more concerned; nothing had changed, to make Teddy more exhausted. But Billy was selfish and blind and didn't think, he'd just assumed, and somehow, he'd lost Teddy. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

He wasn't sure how Teddy had become so important. He'd started by just being someone very nice to look at, all that work visible in the lines of his shoulders and legs and arms, someone who smiled and waved when he saw Billy. Somewhere along the line, they'd become friends, and he'd found more to like about Teddy. Teddy was shyer than Billy had expected from his appearance, all soft words and kindness and, sometimes, when no-one looked, gentle touches to Billy's hand or arm. He'd wondered, then, but it wasn't something he could just _ask_ , not when it could get either one of them accused and killed.

And then they'd borrowed one of Billy's father's bottle of spirits, sat sipping it in one of the fields surrounding the village, and drunken he'd toppled on top of Teddy under the stars and felt arms come around him and _known_. They'd kissed, then and every other time they could sneak away together, always careful and slow, whispered promises to each other, made elaborate impossible plans. He'd told Teddy he loved him, once, and Teddy had smiled, and said it back soft and slow and amazed. 

No, he should have noticed sooner when Teddy started being half somewhere else when they met. Not during the kissing, when Teddy was always all his, but before and after when Teddy had just seemed tired and a little lost. He should have, and instead he'd been selfish and short-sighted, assumed Teddy would _always_ be his, they'd _always_ be together when they could. Until Teddy vanished, leaving Billy waiting for him one night, and at first he'd thought he'd been abandoned until his anger faded. Teddy would never leave him, not of his own free will, not when he'd promised to stay. It just wasn't _Teddy_ , unless he was a far, far better liar than Billy gave him credit for. He'd hunted for other explanations, until his parents thought him half-mad, and he hadn't been able to explain to anyone why it was so important to find one more labourer. He'd found nothing, except for vague rumours, a mention of horses in the night, someone who'd heard music that night, someone who'd seen Teddy walk away from the village early that morning.

Fairy tales always were something Billy loved, and not least because fairyland seemed to be both crueller and kinder than the mortal world. Capricious and beautiful and not inclined to burn people for who they slept with or for the ability to wiggle his fingers and spark a little, maybe break a window or light a candle. Somewhere heroes could be heroes, and the bad guys were easy to stop as long as you knew how. Regardless, the stories had given him the clue he needed, maybe, clinging to his last desperate hope. Teddy could have been witched away, not left of his own accord. And if he had, then there were rules. There were _stories_ , as much of a hope as Billy had. The first full moon after, if Teddy really had been taken by the fae, he'd have to pass through the crossroads closest to the village. And if someone waited there, and their love was strong enough- perhaps.

It's better than pining, at least. Better than no chance at all, although he's barely gotten out of bed since Teddy had gone.

It's nearly midnight, the road deserted and washed grey by the full moon. For a moment he quails; he's only Billy Kaplan, witchbreed, capable of a few parlour tricks that could get him burned if he wasn't careful enough. What chance did he have against one of the fae? And the stories never mentioned two men. Perhaps it wouldn't work, if the priests were right, if their love is a twisted and fake monstrosity. Perhaps Teddy was better off where he was, unaging, gentle and honest and _Teddy_ for much longer than Billy could give him. This whole thing is- reckless, and naive, and _stupid_... and the only way to get Teddy back. 

He can hear the jingling of bells, the slow solemn sound of walking horses, and perhaps it's for the best it was too late to turn back now. Teddy wasn't capable of twisted, could never be the evil the priests would call him, even if Billy is. And perhaps it's selfish, but- what good is life, if he doesn't have Teddy? He breathes in and out, standing a little straighter, defiant despite how small he felt as he saw the first horse, tall and black and bedecked in so much green barding and unnecessary gold bells he's surprised it can move at all. Three tests, every story said. He can manage that much, surely, for the one person who thought he was lucky to have Billy.

A man rides the horse, dark-haired and pale-skinned and with an odd smile on his face, dressed in the same green and gold as the horse. Billy thinks his eyes slide to him for a moment, green and narrow and calculating, his lips thinning as he does, but he continues riding. After him, his retinue is faceless, armoured and helmeted in more gold and green, and none of them turn to look at him- except one, and even through the visor, Billy thinks he hears his name whispered, sees Teddy's blue eyes. The only one riding on a white horse, he notices, and he hopes that means what he thinks it means. With no time to hesitate, he steps forward, hand on that man's leg, eyes screwed up as he desperately hopes he didn't get it wrong.

The noises stop. The metal of the armour under his hand grows warmer, and he risks looking up. The armoured head is tilted down at him, and it's Teddy's size and shape and gesture, and Billy finds his voice, loud and cracking slightly. "I- this one is mine, and I want him _back_."

It's not a speech for the ages, really, he thinks. But it's true, and it's apparently good enough even if it isn't the grand declaration of a real fairy tale, as the man at the front sighs. The rest of the knights move, forming a circle around them; Billy, small and alone, the knight who has to be Teddy, the fae- prince, probably, given the gold band around his head- on his horse. The leg starts moving under his hand, and desperately he scrabbles for purchase, remembering only that he has to hold on, until a gloved hand curls around his instead, peeling him off the leg but staying wrapped around Billy's hand instead. Teddy's hand, he thinks, although Teddy still doesn't speak as he gets down off the horse. It's enough to give him a little more courage, though.

"We promised. He promised he'd never leave me, and I- love him." It's harder to say out loud than he thought, his voice probably too loud and strident, but the hand around his tightens slightly and he has to take that as a good sign.

The prince's mouth curls derisively, and he raises an eyebrow as he talks, looking down at him. "You? And what do you have to offer him? A life of fear and shame, of growing old before his time, of hard work and stolen moments and always, always, the risk of burning," he says, scornful and dismissive.

And the dreadful part is, it's true. Billy knows that. But he can't back down now, and he takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Maybe. But at least what I offer him is true. What do you offer that's any better than that?" He fires the question back without thinking, half-horrified by it, but he always did have problems with saying exactly what he thought.

The fae flinches, and scowls. He'd almost be beautiful,Billy thinks, at least in abstract, but it's rather ruined by that expression. Still, after a moment it fades, replaced by something crueller, something distant and sharp. His voice this time insinuates, slithering cold into his thoughts, coiling round them. "Do you really think you're good enough for him? You, a mere human, alone and afraid and with nothing of worth? You are _nothing_ , mortal. What right do you have to anything?"

"I don't," he says, without even needing to think about it. He's right there, too. Billy is and has nothing worth anyone's time and effort, most of the time. Except he can hear Teddy's voice, low and amazed in his memory, affection in it more than Billy ever deserved. Except he's fought voices like this before, worse for being his own, echoing in the back of his head. "I don't think I'm good enough at all. But he does." He swallows, hard, risking a sideways glance. The helmet is turned in his direction, and he risks a small smile. "And maybe I'll do this, and it isn't what he wants- but at least I can give him the choice. Maybe he'll want to go with you anyway. But I'll- have tried." He turns his face back to the fae, back straight, remembering more of Teddy's words. "He always said I could do anything if I tried. I guess it's time to find out if he's right."

The fae seems about one step away from stamping his foot in irritation, and his eyes flick between both of them rapidly. He... isn't exactly what Billy expected, honestly. He was expecting cold perfection, not petulance and melodrama. After a moment, the prince throws his hands up, not even trying to look off-hand any more. "Fine. Presumably, you know the story. Three tests, and the last the worst. Hold him, master Kaplan, and he's yours- or at least as much yours as the world will allow you to have." He gestures, the air flickering green around them, and Billy barely had time to take in that the fae already knows his name, let alone wonder why.

The hand under his grows warm, the armour melting away as the hand around his curls tighter to compensate, and Billy turns to meet Teddy's eyes. He is a little startled that Teddy seems to be entirely naked, but he supposes if the stories are true, it's not like clothes would last long anyway. And maybe it's part of the test, and he wonders if it would have counted if he'd dropped Teddy's hand in shock. Teddy still doesn't speak, his expression set in cold lines almost foreign to his face, but his eyes- his eyes are definitely on Billy, and for a moment Billy can't breathe. "Love you," he manages, soft and choked, and then-

Teddy shifts. His skin erupts in green scales, his hands into claws, and in no more than a second he's taller and wider and snarling in fury, growling at Billy, and for a moment Billy's mouth opens wide in shock and dismay. Stories, he reflects, are nothing like real life, when it's happening to you. But Teddy's eyes stay blue and calm, and, Billy thinks, warm, and after a moment he steps forward, his free arm curling around a waist a lot larger than he's used to. It's still Teddy underneath, he has to believe that, and if that's true it wouldn't matter what Teddy looked like as long as he was there. He holds on as wings snap free from Teddy's back, flapping wildly, as armoured plates spring up, edges digging into his arms.

The rest of it passes in a blur. Teddy struggles and shifts in his arms, pulling away, pushing away, each shape less like _Teddy_ than the last- always, except the eyes. He grows cold as ice, hot as fire, dead and decayed, feathered and shrieking. He shifts improbably quickly between sizes, grows cool and slippery and sharp and spiky. He becomes a snake, and then a lattice of flesh, Teddys face improbably, horrifyingly screaming in the middle of it, and then something armoured and strange and entirely alien. He scratches at Billy, enough to draw blood, screams at him, and Billy is tiring and desperate but holds on as best he can, stubborn as he can be. Teddy always laughed at him when he got stubborn, he remembers, but in private he'd pull Billy closer and smile and tell him that his stubbornness was part of why he loved him. How could he give that up?

The last is the worst. Teddy becomes _Teddy_ , bruised and battered and still naked, somehow smaller than Billy remembers. He flinches, shivering in Billy's hold, talking for the first time. "You're hurting me, Billy, please, let go," he begs, and the raw desperation in his voice is painful. For a moment Billy's grip loosens, but he still doesn't let go. He pulls Teddy down with him, instead, kneeling on the ground. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against Teddy's, one hand raised to Teddy's face. This is what Teddy always does for him, when the village bullies catch him, or when the crushing weight of all that's wrong with him crashes in on him again. He can do it for Teddy, can't he? 

"I'm sorry, I can't, just- a little longer, Teddy, please," and if he's begging himself, eyes closing, then Teddy will understand. He holds on as the begging becomes whimpers, the whimpers become sobs- and then they drop away, and when he looks up again Teddy is whole and perfect and smiling softly in the way he saves for Billy. Also clothed, which is mildly disappointing, now he actually would have the chance to appreciate less clothing.

But even then, he doesn't let go. The fae hasn't said he's won, and Teddy hasn't spoken again, and he can't risk it. They sit like that for long seconds, silence settling around them, until Teddy's arms come up around Billy.

"Love you too," he says, voice familiar and affectionate again, and Billy shivers, a choked sob working its way up past his lips- but just one, before he throws himself forward against Teddy, leaving them both sprawled against the grass. There's a faintly disgusted sound from behind them, and a pair of feet in surprisingly solid boots considering all the fancy clothing above stand next to them. Billy should probably be a little more embarrassed, but it's pretty hard with Teddy warm under him again. He does, however, sit up, Teddy following a few seconds later. The rest of the men and all the horses are gone, vanished like they never existed- and perhaps they didn't. Fae were meant to be good at illusions, right?

"I suppose you think you've won," says the fae, arms folded over his chest in a very un-prince-like way. "I certainly seem to have lost, at least." His voice is disgusted, but at the same time... Billy can't help feeling there's no real venom behind it.

Teddy seems to agree. "Don't be like that, Loki. I told you he would be there." He doesn't sound particularly irritated, and Billy swings his head back around, looking at Teddy, puzzled. Teddy smiles again, fleeting, before he looks up at- Loki, apparently. "Billy, this is Loki. Loki, Billy. Loki's not so bad, when you get to know him."

"I'm a _fae_. I'm awful and terrible and cruel. Ask anyone." Is Loki- pouting? Billy isn't quite sure what's going on here. Some kind of history the two of them have made in the last couple of weeks, although Teddy shows no signs of letting go of Billy, so presumably not romantic. Teddy wouldn't lie to Billy, even by action. "I made him suffer, didn't I? And I stole _you_."

Teddy sighs, and Billy can't quite help feeling like he's intruding slightly, at least until Teddy's arm tightens around his shoulder a little. "You did. But I agreed to the procession, and it's not like the stories aren't pretty clear on the whole test thing, from what you were saying." He turns to Billy, one hand already pushing Billy's hair back out of his face. "And I already forgave you for the stealing part, remember? Would you believe fae get lonely?" he adds, to Billy, and it's not enough to overcome the instinctive burst of anger along the lines of 'well don't steal someone else's boyfriend', but it does get him to look up. Sure enough, Loki looks... distant, staring at them with a faint hint of sadness. It's a look Billy understands all too well, one he probably wore himself before Teddy. And- he remembers, too, that in the stories, fae are always bound by rules. 

'Hold him, and he's yours', he remembers, and he wonders how many people Loki's tried to hold and never been able to keep. If Loki's even capable of doing things any other way, or if the story never changes. He meets Teddy's eyes, and Teddy smiles, seeming to understand.

"What's fairyland like?" Billy asks, looking up, and Loki frowns.

"Big. Green. I have a castle," he adds, looking thoughtful. "Not many visitors, a few spare rooms." He offers it tentatively. "Very few burnings. And... well, Teddy's fae-touched, now. And you're... close enough, whatever you are. No-one would notice you were even there, most likely."

"Pretty quiet, or at least Loki's bit of it is." Teddy adds, shrugging, and then smiles, just a hint of teasing in it. "He has a really big library. I spent most of my time in there." Jerk. He knows books are hard to get hold of, and one of the few things Billy loves almost as much as Teddy.

Billy looks at Teddy, faintly questioning. It's a bad idea, probably, and they'll probably regret it, but- can it really be worse than the constant threat of discovery, never being allowed to be openly _together_? And Loki isn't exactly bad looking, Billy notices, and Teddy seems to have made some kind of peace with him so it must be possible. "So you have room for a couple of visitors, then," he says, half-challenge, not entirely a question, and actually finds himself enjoying the way Loki's eyes widen slightly. Teddy laughs quietly under his breath next to him.

"I... suppose," Loki says, looking entirely baffled.

"I told you he had a mind of his own," Teddy says, proud and pleased and reaching for Billy's hand to squeeze, and they share a look, nodding at each other at the same time. Billy reaches out, one hand resting tentatively against Loki's calf, Teddy's hand reaching for the other leg at the same time. "Hold you and you're ours, right?"

And maybe it's not the way the story's supposed to end, but- perhaps stories don't all have to end the same, Billy thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is very "ish". Basic motif taken from Tam Lin, and once you remember it's all about stories, Loki becomes your automatic sort of bad guy. A lot of the background terminology is 1602-based; witchbreed is the name for mutants in that universe. Probably not actually 1602 compliant, given the one view of those versions of Billy and Teddy we got.
> 
> Inspired by a whole mess of things. And a little personal need for something close to a happy ending, at least in one world.


End file.
